


A Drabble: Failing to Deduce

by LegoLock



Series: Friday Ficlets [25]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Disturbing Themes, Drabble, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Gore, dark!john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegoLock/pseuds/LegoLock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if John Watson was a sadistic murderer, but Sherlock didn't notice in time? He's not often wrong, of course, but even Sherlock Holmes makes mistakes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Drabble: Failing to Deduce

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a short little bit that's semi-graphic and has kind of been just floating around my head. It's not as detailed as I'd like...but I wrote it on a whim to get it out of the way. If people like it I suppose I'll work more on it, but as it stands I was just spit balling with this one.
> 
> (Disclaimer: Sherlock and the works don't belong to me, I'd like them to, but they don't.)

Molly Hooper hadn’t seen Sherlock in several weeks. 

It wasn’t unlike him to go missing like that, of course, he did so often enough that people generally didn’t worry. However, usually, he didn’t leave his experiments unfinished before he vanished without a word. She glanced down the dimming streets before she stepped up to the black door labeled 221B and knocked.

She knocked again when no one answered, wondering where Mrs. Hudson was because she usually answered the door promptly if Sherlock didn’t. Then again...the older woman could have gone away herself. Molly was about to turn and leave when the door squeaked open. Molly was greeted by a new face.

“Oh! I...hi! Um...sorry...I'm Molly. Molly Hooper.” She stammered slightly as she offered a hand to the blonde man that stared at her. He was handsome...in a rugged way.

The man offered a kind smile and shook her hand firmly, “John Watson.” He paused, “I suppose you're also looking for Sherlock. Everyone is, it seems...but I just moved in recently. I barely see him to be honest.”

Molly nodded, “He does that...I...I work with him, sort of, and I was just concerned. He usually doesn’t leave things undone…in the lab...”

John shrugged and offered an apologetic smile, “I wish I could help, but I haven’t seen him in days. He just up and ran out the door one night.”

She frowned subtly, that did sound on par. “Well...if you do happen to see him could you tell him I dropped by?

“Yes, of course. I'm sure he'll turn up.” John assured.

A loud thump sounded over John’s shoulder, causing Molly to jump slightly. “What on earth…?”

John turned his face towards the noise, the briefest flash of annoyance streaking across his face before he turned back to Molly. “Mm...cat...probably.”

“I didn’t know Mrs. Hudson allowed pets…”

“Just for me.” He winked, “Have a nice day, Molly. I’ll tell Sherlock you were here when I see him.”

“Oh...right! Thanks…” Molly smiled uncertainly before turning on the step and starting away again.

John watched her walking down the street and waved at her when she looked back, closing the door when she turned away. His smile faded instantly and his eyes rolled upwards as he ascended the steps slowly. Tutting as he re-entered the flat, which was flooded with almost too loud violin music. Actually...it was one of Sherlock’s works which John had recorded to play while he worked.

“That was naughty...I told you to keep very quiet…” He said smoothly as he strolled towards where he’d left Sherlock.

The dark haired detective was still strapped to one of the kitchen chairs with excessive amounts of duct tape. John found the sticky silver tape the best form of bondage as captives tended to be willing to shed skin, and sometimes limbs, when he used ropes or chains. He’d wrapped the detective's chest and torso to the back of the chair; each of his long arms was strapped, from wrist to elbow, in silver tape to the arms of the chair; and his legs, wrapped from knee to ankle, were similarly strapped to the stout chair legs. John admired the silver patch which wrapped around the detective’s lower face, his cheeks bulged over the sticky gag due to the wadded up rag John had nearly choked him with. So the detective couldn’t scream...too loudly.

Sherlock had tipped his chair over, clearly attempting to alert Molly to his distress. Thankfully, the woman hadn’t been too curious...though John made a vow to pay her a visit just to be certain there were no loose ends. John strolled slowly towards him, enjoying Sherlock’s look of terror and desperation. Those emotions had been hard won, which was what John loved about Sherlock. Unlike previous victims, John had had to work on Sherlock much differently...because of his Mind Palace. But, even the strongest mind snapped under John’s relentless methods.

His tongue dabbed at his lips as he leaned over, watching the man squirm and thrash against his bonds. He admired the bruises and cuts on Sherlock’s face, the sweat that dampened his wild curls...the tears starting to appear in his bloodshot eyes. His nostrils flared and his breath rasped loudly in the silence of the pauses between notes.

“Oh, Sherlock, we’ve been over this…” John said softly as he reached down and started to lift the man and his chair upright. “No one is going to hear you...no one is going to save you...and when they find you, it will be far too late.” Patting Sherlock’s head affectionately, which made the detective scream.

It was a scream of frustration.

John felt a shudder of arousal and licked his lips, “Now, love...I know you were just trying to save yourself, and I don’t fault you for it, but I did warn you what would happen if you made noise…” Sherlock’s bright eyes snapped to his face and the filthy detective couldn’t hold back a shudder.

The blonde man just smiled and strolled over to the desk to retrieve a set of pliers, pliers the detective knew well. His toes were short a few nails…

Sherlock made a lovely noise of absolute distress as he curled his hands into fists and shook his head wildly. John just smiled evilly, walking back to his helpless captive and calmly starting to unfurl his long fingers.

“You brought this on yourself, Sherlock...just remember that…” John cooed. “Goodness...look at those nails...it’s almost as if you’ve been clawing at something…” He tutted, “Good thing I know exactly how to fix that…”

Sherlock screamed again and rocked the chair violently as John calmly began to work, humming in time with the music and thinking he might record the distressed noises Sherlock made...they were musical and arousing...and John never wanted to forget his favourite victim...


End file.
